The Afterlife With George And Uncle Edward
by Werecat Boy
Summary: A wacky world awaits within the Haunted Mansion, where ghosts from every time era continue on crazy misadventures within the supernatural tenant house. It's a sitcom of surprises and hilarity. Please R&R.
1. Within The Mansion

I have had the idea for this story a long while ago after I had a weird dream about the Haunted Mansion characters being in an old sitcom. I liked the idea, and my dearest friend/editor Aquarian Wolf encouraged me to go for it and write up a fanfic based on it. So, here it is. And once again, I want to thank AW for helping encourage me to write it, and to all my other HM friends who liked the idea. Enjoy!

* * *

A large black cloud swirled over the small town of Liberty Square. A storm was approaching the sleepy little New England town fast, although it was not unusual. Most residents actually found it peculiar when there was a sunny day. It was a quaint little village with cobblestone alleys and houses made of brick and clapboard; it looked just like a postcard of the Hudson River Valley in the 1700s. Though it had changed and modernized with the times, it still retained that quiet pre-Revolutionary look. 

But with the happy, quaint ambience of the little village, there loomed one solemn cold face: a sprawling gothic mansion at the end of town. It held an ominous presence with its large walls of brick and stone, and most residents rarely even dared to pass by it. It had been abandoned for at least a hundred years; or so the people had thought. When actually, if one crossed the threshold to this large house, and glimpsed within in its facade, they would see that it is actually a tenant complex. Yes, a ghostly tenant house, where ghosts and ghouls of every size and time era reside.

The sky seemed to open up and rain began to downpour heavily. A lone figure dashed up to the mansion and hurried inside out of the rain. The figure was a handsome young man with dark brown hair and bright blue eyes. He adjusted his suit and tie as he stepped inside the mansion and started up the stairwell. The man was the ghost of George Gracey.

George Gracey had dwelled within the large ghostly tenant house for a few years. He was a young aristocrat from the early-1900s who had hanged himself when he lost everything in the stock market crash of 1929. Looking back on it, George realized just how stupid and foolish the whole act was; he realized that no amount of money had been worth his life. After his death, he had haunted his house for many years until it was demolished, and lost his happy haunting ground. After a year of searching, he finally had stumbled upon the mansion, and now had an apartment within the building, renting it from the grumpy old Mr. Grumby.

In the afterlife, George still had continued to work: he ran the Gracey Funeral Parlor at the edge of town, along with his lovely secretary Miss April/December. Miss April was usually a very sweet and demure woman, yet her haggy December side took over whenever she was furious. The two masqueraded as mortals, in order not to scare off their living customers.

Ascending up the stairs to his apartment, George bumped into the lovely Miss Lily O'Malley. Miss O'Malley was a young radiant woman, who had died when she was only 28. In her mortal life she had formerly been a tightrope walker at a circus; until one day the rope snapped while performing her act over a river of crocodiles.

From the first day George had met the young woman when he moved into the building, he was absolutely entranced by her beauty and personality: the way her brown hair was styled into a messy bun with tendrils; her bright sparkling hazel eyes; her lilting voice and musical laugh; her bright wit and intelligence. He was absolutely captivated by her in every way. He longed to tell her how he had felt, yet every time he met her, he would act like a shy schoolboy or just randomly babble on.

Lily's bright eyes caught Gracey ascending up the stairs. "Hello George!" She playfully twirled the orange-cream colored parasol she held in her hands.

"H-hi, Lily!" George stammered, feeling flustered once again just being in her presence.

"How are things going down at the parlor?" She gave off a bright smile that always dazzled George.

"Oh...everything's fine," he replied meekly. He was still entranced by the young woman's smile.

"That's great. Oh by the way, I'm sorry Brudus broke into your apartment last night. I should never take my sight off that croc."

"No, it's quite alright." Brudus was the crocodile that had devoured Lily and kept him as a pet around in her apartment. Occasionally, the large reptile would break loose and wreak havoc in some of the neighboring apartments. George remembered waking up one night and found the crocodile sitting at the foot of his bed to his surprise.

"Well, I think I have to be going,"Lily stated. "I have to teach another class about the tricks of tightrope-walking."

She began to descend the stairs, when George realized that this was probably his last chance to tell her for another day. He was tired of keeping his emotions to himself and not saying how he felt. He felt it was time to finally tell her "Wait! Lily!" he shouted.

Lily turned around and stared back at him with her deep hazel eyes. "Yes, George?"

"I wanted to tell you that..." Gracey then felt as if his mouth suddenly went numb. He tried to say it, but it seemed the words didn't want to escape his throat. "I just wanted to say...that, um...well, for a long time now...I feel that we should..." He knew he was completely butchering what he wanted to say and now was just babbling on. "What I'm trying to say is that, from the first day I met you, I always felt..."

"I know what you mean, George," Lily gave a coy smile. She tried hard to suppress her giggles from Gracey's flustered nature.

"You do?" George asked surprised.

"Of course. You don't think I found how you felt quite obvious by now," she giggled. "How about after I'm done teaching my class tonight, we head out for a walk in the graveyard behind the house?"

"That would be great!"

"Great! She you then." With that, Lily gave George a playful bop on the head with her parasol before heading back down the stairs.

Gracey was in absolute joy. It felt so great that he had finally told her. And now that he would even be going for a small stroll around the cemetery with her, yet. Nothing could spoil this joyous day at all. Except for maybe...

"Oooh, Georgie!" a voice cried out down the hall.

"Oh, lord no..." Gracey mumbled. Turning around he expected to find what he knew the source of the high-pitched voice was - it was Emily, the local nymphomaniac tenant. Emily had died as a young bride, still in her wedding dress, after being jilted at the alter. It was apparent that for the years George had resided in the mansion, she had a huge crush on him. It seemed that no matter what, she was always trying to rope him into marrying her.

George wouldn't have minded her so much if the bride hadn't been so obnoxious and annoying; she was the perfect stereotype of every empty-headed high school cheerleader. And what was even more frustrating was her attempts to lure him into marrying her. On one trip when Emily had called him up to fix a lightbulb for her, he found a preacher hiding in the closet, ready to go the minute Emily gave the signal. Another unforgettable moment was the time she rang his doorbell and ambushed him, throwing rice in his eyes and blinding him; all the while attempting to drag him into the carriage that was waiting to head off to the chapel.

It almost sort of became a routine for George whenever he got home to expect her waiting for him. And he tried whatever way possible to escape her.

"Oh, George," she squeaked. "I just made a lovely fried vulture dinner for two tonight. Maybe if you weren't busy, you could come on up? And then we could go for a romantic walk together afterwards."

"Oh...um, no thanks," George replied, knowing that there would mostly likely be another preacher hiding in the closet or the walk would end at the church. "I have, uh...lots of paperwork to do tonight. You know, financial things for the parlor. Things aren't going all that well; it's been kind of dead. Ha, ha...dead. That's a funny one."

George continued walking up to his apartment, but Emily was persistent and certainly wouldn't take no for an answer.

"Well, how about lunch and a jog?" the bride almost pleaded.

"No, I'm sorry." George quickened his pace and dashed to the door as fast as he could.

"Breakfast and a bicycle ride!"

"Sorry." Gracey tried to quickly pass through the wall into his apartment, but the briefcase he held stopped him. He whipped out his door key from his pocket in a flash and scrambled to unlock the door.

"A croissant and a phone call! Some cookie crumbs and the daily jumble!"

Getting the key into the lock, he hurried into his apartment in record time, escaping the annoying bride again for another day.

George's ghostly apartment was a pretty modest little place. A cobweb-draped living room filled with Victorian furniture, a standard kitchen, two bedrooms, and one bathroom. He was usually tidy in the appearance of his apartment, but left the dust and cobwebs to give it that ghostly "unlived-in" look. However, the living room was more than messy with cigar butts, empty beer and whiskey bottles, and old copies of newspaper strewn about - all leftover from his Uncle Edward who was passed out on the sofa.

George's Uncle Edward was an elderly bearded man who was once a wealthy and respected diplomat in his time, but died in a dynamite explosion after he crossed one of his rivaling ambassadors. Now, he was nothing more but a drunken, womanizing gambler. George told him he would let him stay in his apartment for a little while, because shortly after he died his estate was demolished and the former diplomat had nowhere else to go. Edward promised he would only stay for a few weeks; but those few weeks were now seven months and counting.

Gracey found him passed out on the sofa again in his favorite attire: a tuxedo shirt and coat from the waist up; red and white striped boxer shorts and socks from the waist down. He snored loudly, sleeping off the alcohol he had just consumed a short while ago.

George was starting to get annoyed with his uncle staying and taking advantage of his apartment. Whenever he was out, Edward would sometime invite a bunch of his drinking buddies up to George's place for a party. And most of the time during the day, he just lied around and slept the drink off.

Gracey walked over and gently tapped his uncle on the shoulder. "Edward," he gently said in a soft voice. No response came from the drunk. George gave another swift tap. All this did was make the uncle snort and turn over. "EDWARD!" George shouted at the top of his lungs, finally awaking the dazed and confused diplomat.

"What! Who! Oh, hiya George boy!" Edward responded, his ghostly breath (if he had any) reeked of a combination of beer and rum.

George took a confident smug stride around the room, surveying all the damage. "Another party I assume?"

"Only a little one. I just invited a couple of close friends." The former ambassador sounded very uneasy of answering the question.

"How many?"

"Fifteen."

George let out an exasperated sigh. He loved his uncle dearly, but this was too much. He knew he had to go somewhere, but there was nobody else he could go to. Cousin Huet threw him out after the man smacked his wife on the rear; Aunt Lydia tossed him out after he had raided her entire liquor cabinet (he argued that he needed "his medicine"); and his Great Aunt Victoria forced him to leave after a bunch of his friends almost torched her haunt to the ground.

"Edward, I thought I told you the last time, I do not want more than five people in here for a party while I am away," George insisted.

Uncle Edward just simply ignored his nephew's plea and took a long swig from a flask of bourbon he stored under the sofa. "So how was the day at the parlor?"

"Alright I guess. Same old, same old. Miss April went into another one of her mood swings again."

Edward just chuckled and grinned. "Yeah, good old April. But then I guess all women get like an old hag every now and then." The old man laughed hysterically at his own joke.

George just shot an icy silent glare. He hated his uncle's sexist jokes on women. As a matter fact, he hated all of his uncle's jokes because they were mostly sexist or racist.

"Aw, come on George boy. Lighten up! You take things too seriously," Edward insisted. He raised the flask over to Gracey. "Here, have some bourbon."

"No thanks, I pass," he answered waving the bottle away. "So anything interesting happened here today? Besides you getting into a drunken stupor and falling on your can as usual."

"Oh yeah, loads," Edward replied with a grin. "First that landlord of yours stopped by, Mr. Grizzly, or whatever his name is. Came pounding on the door and demanding the rent again. I just persuaded him to hold off until another two weeks."

That was one thing George had to admit about his uncle that came in handy: with his background as a politician and diplomat, he always managed to talk his way out of any situation.

"Then that batty upstairs neighbor Mary came down here with her flock of birds again!" Edward ranted. "She drove me the hell crazy!"

George gave a wide grin and thought to himself: good old Crazy Mary. Crazy Mary (a.k.a. Mary Gilbert) was the elderly ghost who lived upstairs with hundreds of birds. Before she went insane, Mary was married to a wealthy shipbuilder named George Wilson. The couple had a very bitter relationship between each other, which ended one night when Mary murdered Wilson; she took an axe to his skull. Though she had gotten away with the heinous crime, her sanity began to deteriorate afterwards and the birds became her only friends. She spent most of the time locked away in her large house, and wandered around with her birds, rose in hand. She finally perished after she went off the edge, literally: she had gone so insane she tried to fly with her birds and leapt out the fourth story window.

Edward continued on with his rant about the old woman. "She came knocking on the door, screaming her usual nonsense sayings, like "Feed the birds! Tuppence a bag!", "The government!", or "Block of cheese!" Anyway, she came storming in here with her whole bloody flock of birds and leapt up onto the dining room table, shrieking "Fly my pretties! Fly!" And the next thing I know, all those damned birds are dive bombing me all around the bloomin' room! It took me an hour before I managed to shoo the old broad and the birds out of here with a broom."

George rolled onto the floor laughing hysterically at his uncle recounting the event. Wiping away a tear, he remarked, "Ah, you got to love old Mary."

"I for sure as hell don't!" Edward snapped. "That old broad needs to be locked away."

"Aww, but you have to admit she's still a fun person. After all, without her this place wouldn't be the same," George commented, trying to stop his chuckling.

"Well, at least she needs to find something to do other than those damn birds so she doesn't bother us!" Edward grumbled. "After all, she might get pretty lonely with those screeching vultures being the only thing keeping her company. Maybe if she found a guy to go around with, she wouldn't act so bloody insane." Edward stopped for a minute and pondered a thought. "You know, that landlord guy Mr. Gribblby..."

"Grumby," George corrected.

"Whatever," Edward commented. "Anyway, that guy seems to be pretty lonely. Maybe the two..."

"Oh no!" George shouted. He stopped his uncle before he could even finish his thought. Edward was known to hatch all kinds of crazy schemes and ideas - and all of them always blew back up in his face. "I don't want you even thinking about it! Besides, I don't think Mr. Grumby is the kind of person who really wants to be around with someone."

Mr. Grumby the landlord was an extremely old ghostly codger. He was bald, had a long white beard, and went about his way in an old-fashioned wheelchair. The old man had a nasty, grumpy streak to him, and preferred to be alone all the time. He was on the verge of going completely deaf, and always carried his large hearing horn around with him.

"Oh, but George boy!" Edward replied. "Even if it doesn't work out, it could be so much fun just watching what trouble it could inflict." A devilish grin slipped across his old, bearded face.

"No!" George shouted. "Now if you excuse me, I have to get ready to meet Lily downstairs in a bit."

"Good for you George. I knew you would snag that cute tightrope broad!"

Gracey rolled his eyes at his uncle's comment. He hurried to get ready and made sure he was looking his best. He had a feeling that this would be a night of pure magic for him and Lily.

* * *

All character names are based on the Haunted Mansion's Ghostly Gallery. 


	2. The Neighborhood Brat

By midnight, the storm had finally cleared and the moon hung high up in the bright sky. Moonlight and the shining of the stars basked the cemetery behind the mansion in a radiant glow, giving a romantic feeling to an otherwise grim setting.

George and Lily strolled casually along the paths that passed by the scattered headstones and mausoleums. There was a lump in George's throat while they both walked along together. He was both a complete nervous wreck, yet in joy at finally spending some time with the woman he adored.

Lily stopped and took a rest, sitting on the front steps to a large crypt. She just looked up and sighed at the sight of the moon. "Isn't it beautiful, George?"

"Yes, it is," he replied. However, he wasn't staring at the moon; he was looking at Lily's face. To him it was more beautiful than any sight he had ever seen.

"George?"

Gracey snapped out of his dumbstruck state, "Yes?"

"Why are you staring at my face like that?" she asked with a slight laugh in her voice.

"Oh...well." George was now he more flustered than he had been. "It's just that...I, um, haven't..." He struggled hard to get the words out he was trying to say. "I haven't...seen anyone as lovely as you before."

Lily didn't know quite how to respond; no man had ever said anything like that to her before. They had said she was pretty, but never put it in the words as George had. She just stared down at her feet, smiling broadly. "Thank you," she replied meekly. "I don't know why I kept waiting to tell you this as well, but I always had felt so strongly about you too. Seeing you pass by everyday on your way to the parlor; every time I felt like shouting out about how I felt."

George was stunned to hear Lily admit that she felt the same way as he did whenever they passed by each other. He walked over to her and placed a hand on her shoulder, before sitting down beside her.

The two remained silent for a brief while, before Lily decided to strike up a conversation between them. "You know, after all the time I have known you, you never have once told me what it was like living the aristocratic life. How was it in high society?"

George just looked down and shuffled his feet. "Oh, I'm sure it wasn't anything as exciting as the circus. After all, you got to travel to different places around the country; have the excitement of performing a death-defying feat high up in the air; entertain the audience in shear wonderment. I mean sure you had to work around creepy clowns, but you did something that brought happiness to people."

Lily beamed back at George, her bright hazel eyes sparkling at him. "That is true. But I still want to hear how life was like for you. You never discussed it with me before."

George took a deep sigh before beginning. "Ok, well...I personally always found it uncomfortable even though I was born into it. They would always make you socialize with the most stuffy and boring people imaginable..."

* * *

Edward made his way down the hall over to Crazy Mary's place. He decided to completely block out any advice or warning his nephew had given him and decided to put his plan into action. If an idle mind was a devil's playground, then Edward's was a first-class theme park. After all, he thought, what would be wrong with just a little harmless, possibly destructive fun? 

However, as the half-drunken man stumbled his way down the hall, he was hit in the back of the ghostly head with a large rock.

"All right! Who's the dirty sonofa..." he grumbled, before hearing a small childish voice behind him.

"Hey, Mr. Edddwaaaaarrddd!"

The old man turn around to find a little dead child standing in the middle of the hall grinning from ear to ear. Her purple dress and long black hair blew around from the cold drafty air of the corridor. She clutched a tiny slingshot in her hand, which she quickly hid behind her back. It didn't do any good though, as Edward could see right through her.

"Little Leota, go on home! Don't you have to help your mother with one of her weird voodoo practices or whatnot?" Edward shouted.

Little Leota was the daughter of Madame Leota, a disembodied spirit medium and psychic trapped in her crystal ball, who lived two rooms down. The Madame operated her own psychic hotline - sort of like the Madame Cleo of the spirit world.

"No, she's busy with her phone line right now." The girl gave a playful skip down the hall over to the former diplomat. "So, I'm just out and about having a little fun." She beamed a wide phony smile.

"You mean, causing trouble and wreaking havoc wherever you go, you little brat!" Edward spat back at her. Almost all of the ghosts in the tenant mansion disliked Little Leota, as she had the reputation for being an annoying little troublemaker. She scampered around like a little ghostly hurricane, leaving destruction in her wake.

She glared back at the old ambassador with her cold green eyes. "You had better be nice to me or I'm going to tell my mother!"

Being the obnoxious jerk he was every second of the day, Edward just pretended to quiver in mock horror and retorted sarcastically, "Ooooh, I'm sooooo scared! A talking paperweight is going to get mad at me. Oh, I hope she doesn't unleash her evil mystic powers, like dropping the crystal ball on my foot!"

"Stop that!" the little girl shouted back childishly.

Edward though decided just to tune her out and continued his sarcasm, acting just as childish as Little Leota. "Oh, please don't get angry at me. I'm so terrified of the wrath of a little midget."

"Midget?" Little Leota shouted. "That's it! I'm telling my mother." She turned around huffed into the nearby room where her mother was holding her call-in show. Edward could hear the discussion through the door.

"I'm so glad I could help you with your shoe-eating problem, Mr. Gravely. And remember, if you call my hotline again, you'll receive a free stack of tarot cards at no charge..."

"Mother!" Little Leota called to the Madame.

"Not now dear, I'm in the middle of a very important sales plug..."

"But mom! That meanie-head Mr. Edward is making fun of me again."

The Madame let out an exasperated sigh. "Fine, I'll talk to him."

The bratty little girl's face lit up brightly and she skipped back out into the hall and called to Edward, "Ooooh, you're in trouble now!"

"Bah!" the old man grumbled back. "I don't have time for your silly little childish games! I have to be somewhere."

Little Leota scowled and pulled out her slingshot again, making a clear hit at the back of the Edward's head.

Fury rushed through the old ambassador, "That does it!" He ran off after the little girl, passing though the wall and into Leota's room.

"Hello, Mr. Gracey," the Madame replied calmly at his entrance. "My daughter has told me that you have a slight problem with her."

"Yeah, I do!" the cranky man bellowed. "You had better keep that little brat in line and watch her. The hellion keeps hurling pieces of rock at the back of my head!"

"Hellion?" the Madame reacted surprised. She was oblivious to all the trouble her little daughter actually caused and was convinced she was a perfect little angel. "Mr. Gracey, I can assure you that my daughter is certainly no hellion. She's a well-behaved little girl." She spun her head around in the crystal ball to look at her daughter. "Isn't that right, LL?"

Little Leota just gave the most sickeningly sweet phony smile back at her mother and replied, "Yes mumsy. I'ms a good girl, I is."

"Oh please, don't make me sick to my stomach!" Edward said in disgust. "You can't honestly believe that hokey act she puts up with you?"

"That is no hokey act, Mr. Gracey!" the Madame replied, her voice growing louder. "I raised her to be a perfect little lady, and that's what she is!"

"A lady!" Edward replied, half laughing. "It's more like you raised her to be a little monster."

"Mr. Gracey!" Madame Leota shouted, her voice level rising. "Don't rile my temper!"

"Bah, what are you gonna do, you talking fish bowl?" Edward spat back at the medium. "You're the most phoniest psychic I've ever seen. What with your 'I see da future! Call me now!' routine. I may not be employed, but at least my nephew runs and owns a respectable business!"

Madame Leota's face twisted with rage. "That's it! Get out now! OUT!"

"What? You mean you're not gonna turn me into a toad or something? Ha, some magical medium you are," he replied sarcastically.

"OUT! OUT! OUT!"

"Gladly!" Edward shouted back, before passing back through the wall and out into the corridor. "Rotten wench," he commented, before continuing his stroll on down to Mary's room.

* * *

George and Lily continued to sit on the steps of the large mausoleum chatting. The conversation they started up had now lasted over two hours. 

"It is getting kind of late. I shouldn't leave Brudus alone for too long. You know if you don't watch him he'll start to wander all over the place and get into all kinds of mischief," Lily smiled.

"Well I had a great time tonight," George replied. "I don't know why we didn't do this before."

"Because we were too petrified of each other before," Lily said with a giggle.

George smiled back at her, "True. Well, good night." He moved closer over to Lily, just about to give her a kiss good night...before he felt a tug on his shoulder, pulling him away from her.

"There you are Georgie!" a high-pitched sugary voice called behind him. Emily pulled George up off the ground and onto his feet. The empty-headed bride was so happy to have found George, she didn't even think to question as to why him and Lily were sitting alone and why he was about to give the tightrope walker a kiss. "I have been looking all over for you! That fried vulture dinner I cooked was getting cold." She started to drag him back to the mansion.

"But I told you I was too busy tonight to come over," George explained.

Emily only gave back a childish giggle. "Oh, I knew you were just kidding. Come on, the dinner will be delicious!"

"I'm afraid not, Emily. Like I said, I really should be getting back to the paperwork for the parlor. I only stepped out here for a quick breath of fresh air." George tried to get his hand free from the bride's grasp.

"Oh, come on, Georgie! I won't take no for an answer."

"I'm sorry but I can't right now." Gracey finally managed to wriggle his way out of her grasp and started to dash back into the mansion, hoping to lose Emily.

"Georgie, wait up for me!" Emily called out, chasing after him.

Meanwhile, Lily sat back on the steps of the mausoleum, and let out a sigh. The night would have ended much more magical if George had gotten the chance to kiss her. Picking up the parasol, the tightrope walker started to head back to the mansion for the night.


	3. The Geezer And The Bird Brain

Edward reached the end of the corridor, and had arrived at Mary's door. Knowing of the chaos that would probably await him behind it, he let out a heavy sigh and knocked on the door. There was no answer. This time the old man pounded his fist loudly, and was greeted by the sound of an old woman yelling, "Rowflarafelenen!" Edward took this as a yes and passed through the door.

Crazy Mary's room was a grubby little place, with the most meager portion of furniture around the room. Only one sofa, a few gas lamps, and a large round table was situated in the main living area. Tons of newspaper were scattered all over the floor for the birds, and it seemed that at least a dozen cages cluttered the room.

"Mary!" Edward called out, seeing no sign of the deranged bird woman. "MARY!" he bellowed louder.

With this, flocks of birds seemed to come out of the woodwork and started swarming all around him. "Get away from me you nasty vultures!" Edward yelled back at him. The birds continued to dive-bomb the old diplomat or perch on his shoulders.

Mary then entered the room and shouted, "Block of cheese!" With that, all of the birds stopped attacking Edward and fled to the cages in their respected corners. Mary approached Edward with a deranged look on her grandmotherly-like face. Her silver hair was done up in a bun, and she wore a dark red shawl along with her black dress. In her hands she clutched a bright red rose as usual.

"Hello, Mary," Edward spoke, bowing down at the old woman's presence in mock sincerity. "How are you this fine evening?"

"Garanfingel!" the woman just screamed back.

Edward just stood silent with a blank look on his face. "Uh...ok. Anyway, I was just you know strolling along the halls this evening, when I said to myself 'Hey Eddy! Why not stop by at your good old friend Mary's place?' So, I just wondered to see how you're doing?"

This question was a bad mistake on Edward's part, for as soon as he asked it, the deranged woman flung out nonsensical words like a chittering chipmunk. The old man barely had time to comprehend any of them, but he could make out "Rawrl flutner rezzel morotoft neuin."

Edward's only response to this was, "That's good to hear!" The old man had a feeling this was going to be a long conversation, and decided to make himself comfortable on the sofa. As soon as he sat down, one of Mary's crows flew overheard letting out a bird dropping that passed through the ghost and onto the couch. "Hey! Watch it!" Edward shouted. Returning to his fake state of innocence, he glanced around the room and remarked to Mary, "You know I bet you get pretty lonely up here. What with the birds being your only friends and no other spooks coming by to visit you."

"Feed the birds!" Mary shouted back. The other ghosts around the tenant mansion had their way of translating what the crazy bird woman said. If she shouted 'feed the birds' it generally meant yes or something she was in favor of. If she yelled 'the government' then usually it translated to no or something to which she was strongly opposed to.

"You know, have you ever considered maybe getting together with that Mr. Grumby fellow next door? He died about the same age you did, and he seems like a nice guy."

"The government!"

"Oh, he's not that bad," Edward retorted. He found it extremely odd that he communicated with someone through just random sayings. "After all, he's got a very nice business for himself, um..." he stopped for a moment trying to think of other good qualities of Grumby. "I'm sure he'll tolerate your birds, and...oh, he hates children! I know that's something most of us old people share in common. Besides, how can he not fall for a pretty thing like you?"

"Flavornoofin!" she answered back. Edward had no idea what that meant, but by judging the grin on her face it might have meant 'thank you.'

"I was thinking, how's about you and Mr. Grumby go out for a date tomorrow night at seven? I'm sure you two will have a great time!" Edward was beginning to sound like a used car salesman right now.

Mary thought for a brief while, and turned to talk to one of her pigeons before she told Edward, "Feed the birds!"

"Great then!" Edward exclaimed rising to his feet. "Just wait till he...I mean, I know Mr. Grumby will be thrilled about this."

Edward quickly escaped from the room-turned-makeshift bird sanctuary, just as a couple of ravens dive-bombed his head on the way out. Mary just watched the old diplomat go with a wistful look on her face.

* * *

"Georgie! Where did you go?"

George frantically dashed through the mansion's halls trying to lose Emily. But it soon began to seem pointless to him, for wherever he went she picked up his scent like a bloodhound and quickly followed.

"George! Where have you gone?"

She was closer now, judging by her voice. Dashing down a hallway, Gracey saw Phineas Queeg coming out of his room. Phineas was a dumpy, short ghost with a broad round face that seemed to always have a large smile on it. His top hat was neatly placed atop his head, and he carried his carpetbag of wares at his side. Phineas made his job as a door-to-door salesman around the tenant mansion, selling everything a ghost could possibly need.

"Phineas!" George called out.

"Hey George," Phineas greeted him in his jolly voice.

"I need your help! Emily is after me again. Would you mind if I hide out in your room for a few minutes? I just need to lose her..."

But George was interrupted in mid-sentence by Phineas's sales talk. That was the only problem with Mr. Queeg; he was extremely pushy and tried to unload the most useless junk onto his fellow tenants.

"Hey George, do I have the perfect thing for you! What do you think of this?" Phineas rummaged through his large carpetbag and pulled out a small antique wooden clock. "It's a fine hand-crafted original by Ghoulie Hickens, the famous ghost-clock maker himself! Notice all the fine little details in it, like the skulls in the woodwork? And you should hear this thing chime! It's so haunting, it will keep you awake all night."

"Look Phineas, I really don't have time for this," George tried to explain. "Emily is following me and..."

"You know something...you're right!" Phineas interrupted again. "This ain't no bargain." Tossing the clock over his shoulder, he looked his bag once again. "How about this? A fine can of yummy snake liver oil! It's good for what ails you and helps cure the common cold."

"First off Phineas, ghosts don't catch colds," George explained. "And secondly, I need you to help me!"

"Well, then I know just the thing to help you!" This time Phineas pulled out a twisted human arm out of his bag. "This is a genuine hand-made back scratcher, directly imported from England! This will help cure you from any itch."

"Georgie!" Emily called again, now materializing at the end of the hall. She caught sight of George and quickly dashed over to him.

"Gotta go," George remarked to Phineas before dashing back off down the corridor, with Emily in close pursuit.

Phineas called down to George before he was out of sight, "Do you want me to put the back-scratcher on your tab?" The human arm turned around and gave Phineas a swift slap on his fat cheek. "Ow! I thought I told you to stop doing that!"

* * *

"So, why did you come up here again, Edward? Interrupted me right in the middle of my twelfth game of solitaire while I was starin' out the winder!" Mr. Grumby grouchily replied.

After the little meeting with Mary, Edward headed over to Grumby's place to see if the old grouch would go for the idea. All was not going well however; as soon as Edward stepped into the room, the old man just stared at him, giving grumpy looks. Then when he wasn't doing that, he kept shouting at him to yell louder into his hearing horn. Edward suggested the idea of him getting a hearing aide, but Mr. Grumby was stubbornly stuck in the past and refused to buy something that was "the tool of the devil."

"Well, Mr. Grumby I just came over to ask you about..." Edward was interrupted in mid-sentence as loud waltz music began to blare upstairs. "What's that?"

"Oh, it's those doggone whippersnappers Belle and William again!" Grumby grouchily shot back. "They're this ballroom dancing couple who hold these lessons in the studio upstairs and always drives me nuts! What with their loud music and the feet always clomping around. Heh! Waltz music! Now I ask you what kind of music is that! Evil I tells ya! With it's fancy tempting three-four type and the way the man and the woman clutch each other so close. Back in my day we had real music! Gregorian chants and minstrel melodies! Now that was music, unlike this modern stuff these kids play today!"

If Mr. Grumby had thought the waltz was evil music, Edward mused that the old man probably hadn't heard of swing or rock 'n' roll. Or this new thing called "rap" he heard some teenager talking about when he was out and about scaring on Halloween. Edward thought it was best not to mention it to the old man, for probably if he heard any of the those styles it would be a devastating shock to his system.

"Anyway, as I was saying Grumby..."

Before he could finish his sentence again, Grumby grabbed a nearby broom and started pounding on the ceiling with it. "Turn down that music ya durn dunderheads!"

"Aw, blow it out your windpipe, you old coot," Belle's voice called back from upstairs.

"You forget one thing, lady!" Grumby shouted back. "I'm the landlord and I can have ya evicted for disturbing my peace!" With that threat, the music was turned down considerably. "Thank you!" Turning his attention back to Edward, "Now, what were you gonna say?"

"You see Grumby," Edward began again. "I know you must get pretty lonely down here sometimes."

"Lonely!" the wheelchair-bound ghost laughed. "What makes you think I'm lonely?"

"Well, I know you hardly ever leave your room other than to collect the rent. And just now you were spending a Saturday night alone just playing cards by yourself. Don't you ever think of maybe spending some time with someone?"

"No!" Mr. Grumby spat back.

"But I'm here right now."

"Yeah, and I ain't too fond of it," the old man scowled.

"Oh come on, Grumby," Edward argued with him. "Don't you need some companionship? Say! I know just the woman who would be perfect for you. And she's lonely just like you too!"

"Who's that?"

"Mary."

"Crazy Mary!" Grumby reacted in shock. "You expect me to spend time with that raving lunatic! The only reason I even let her stay in the building is because she's always on time with the rent."

"No, no, no!" Edward told him. He thought of what to say for a moment, "She's um...Mary Slab, yeah that's it, Mary Slab, she's a former swimsuit model."

"Swimsuit model, ya say?" Mr. Grumby was certainly interested now. "What's she look like?"

Edward pondered for a few minutes, trying to think of good ways to describe this imaginary woman he just created. "Oh, she's very pretty. Was on all the big name magazine covers during her time. She has...uh, red hair...died at the age of 59..."

"Ooooh, young broad!" Grumby remarked.

"Yeah, so what do you say, Grumby?"

"Wild horses couldn't drag me away from this date!" he cackled.

"How does tomorrow night at seven sound?"

"Fine to me!"

"Alright, hope you two have a great time." Edward showed himself to the door, and grinned mischievously, unknown to what kind of chaos this whole matter would release.

"Hot dang!" Mr. Grumby replied back in his room. "I'd better start making myself look suave for the young lady tomorrow." He wheeled his chair over to a table, and took a bottled labeled "Cue Ball Shiner" out of the drawer. "Now's the chance to finally use this, baby!" he remarked, as he began to apply dozens of globs of it onto his bald head.

* * *

"George! Where are you?" Emily called frustrated. "I know you're excited about coming to dinner, but we can't go if I don't find you."

George quickly zoomed down another corridor, narrowly escaping the bride. He finally found himself less than 50 feet around from his room. He made a sprint to the door as he heard Emily gain speed. He quickly passed through the wall and found security in his room again.

The place was left in the same condition as George had left it, with Edward snoring away on the sofa. (After putting his plan into gear, he heard his nephew approaching and ducked back into the room, pretending to sleep).

Still sleeping the drink off, George thought to himself. Annoyed at Edward making the sofa his make-shift bed, he shook his uncle. Pretending to wake up from a long nap, he yawned, "Oh, heya George! How did that date go with that cute tightrope broad?"

"First off, her name is Lily," George said with a sigh. "And secondly, it was perfect until the end of our date. I was just about to give her a kiss good night when Emily showed up."

Edward let out a chuckle. "That crazy bride found you again, eh?"

"Yes, she did. And she chased me all the way back here to the room. It must have taken me half an hour before I finally lost her. What did you do while I was gone?"

"Oh, I, uh..." the old man tried to think up a quick lie. "Well, I went down to the Ball and Socket Pub and saw the whole gang again. I had a quick snifter of sherry, and then I came back up here and took a nap."

"Figures," George muttered under his ghostly breath. Whenever his uncle said he had a few "snifters" it generally meant ten glasses of it or more. "I'm going to head to bed now. Blow out the candles when you're done."

"Alright, George."

Exhausted by Emily's chase, George dragged himself into the master bedroom, and jumped into bed for the night.

* * *

The grandfather clock in the living chimed five a.m., its toll ringing throughout the room. Edward had passed out on the sofa once again, his snores and whistles providing background accompaniment to the chimes.

As soon as the clock finished tolling, there was the sound of someone knocking loudly on the door. George was awaken by the pounding and made his way through the dark room to answer it. He shot a glare at his uncle still snoring on the sofa. He could probably sleep through an earthquake if he wanted to, George mused to himself. Stumbling his way through the darkness (after briefly slipping on a glass drinking bottle), George opened the door and to his surprise found Lily. "Lily, what are you doing here at this hour?"

"I'm sorry, George," Lily replied with a slight smile on her face. It would have made George's heart melt if he still had one as a ghost. "I didn't mean to wake you. I couldn't sleep and I only came by, just to say that I was sorry that our date kind of had to...you know, end with Emily interrupting us."

"It's not your fault, Lillian," George reassured her. "Seems that woman is always interrupting me or tracking me down wherever I go. Did you know once, while I was putting the trash out in the garbage cans, she was hiding in it and popped out at me? Then there was the time she cornered me in the cellar near the furnace...and the birthday cake ambush...and tripping me down the stairs...not to mention, the incident involving the hippo from the zoo..."

"Ok, ok, I get it," Lily replied with an impish giggle. "That's why I was thinking, would you care to come over to my room tomorrow night for dinner? Just the two of us having a romantic evening."

"I would love that, Lily!" George's face beamed brightly with joy.

"Great! See you tomorrow at six then!" A scream then echoed from another room far down the corridor. "Looks like Brudus is sneaking around into the other tenants's rooms again. I better go catch him. See you tomorrow night." Lily gave George a quick kiss on the cheek, before dashing off to find her reptile friend.

As he closed the door, the widest smile he could muster spread across his face. He felt lighter than air, and now couldn't wait for tomorrow night. He dreamily walked back to his bedroom, slipping and falling to the ground over the same bottle.

Hearing the thump, Edward woke up and saw Gracey lying on the floor next to his bottle. "Hey, that's mine! You want to lose reality, you get your own flask!"

Annoyed George got up to his feet, and hurled the bottle at Edward, which passed directly through him. Gracey headed back to his bedroom, knowing that a big day awaited him tomorrow.


	4. Dead End Job

Philip Elwood is an original character that I created. He can be found in my and Aquarian Wolf's Haunted Mansion story "Undying Love" also under this section.

* * *

Down at the Gracey Funeral Parlor the next day, the morning had been going along as it regularly went. Ezra Dobbins, the bookkeeper for the parlor, had his usual fourteen cups of coffee after opening the place up for the day. Ezra was a very emaciated, skeletal looking ghost, who always had an unnerving grin on his face. He was a hopeless caffeine addict who couldn't function without his fourteen cups of coffee, and for the rest of the day was hyped up and spoke at lightning-fast speed. Besides his steady bookkeeping job, Ezra also gained some money on the side as a bookie; taking and placing bets for the daily horse races. 

At precisely 15 minutes after Ezra opened the parlor, George's secretary Miss April would come in for the day. Miss April was a beautiful young woman in the pink ball gown she wore on the day she died, and always fixed her raven black hair into a bun. Although, Miss April had another side to herself: Old December. Whenever she was annoyed or angered, her beauty would fade away and she would morph into the ugly, white-haired old hag. She frequently changed to the old woman in the mornings, mostly because whenever she came in for the day the hyper Ezra would always try to ask the woman out for a date.

"Oh, come on April! Why won't you go out for a date with me, huh?" Ezra begged her, talking a mile a minute. "Is it because I look thinner than a stick? Is it because I died after I got whacked by that mafia guy and I can now remove some of my limbs? What is it?"

Ezra's only response was a swift slap on his ghostly cheek. The December side now took its appearance. She sighed before she spoke up in her chipmunk-like Brooklyn accent. "How many twimes do I have to tell youse, I don't go out with sleazes!"

"A sleaze?! You think I'm a sleaze?!"

"Yes, what wit' your wittle bookie joint you have running dere!"

The two's bickering finally ceased for a few minutes when a ghostly young man stepped through the door. Outfitted in a fine Victorian servant costume, the young ghost had short brown hair and bright hazel eyes. The gentleman nodded to them as he hung up his coat. "Morning you, two."

"Morning, Philip," Ezra and April greeted in unison.

Philip Elwood was the funeral parlor's liveryman and hearse driver. The young gentleman had originally been a stable attendant for a wealthy household in New England in the 1800s, but died in his early 20s when a carriage plowed over him. Gracey had recently hired the young man to take care of the hearse's horse, as well as driving the carriage itself.

"So, have I missed this morning's floor show yet?" Philip grinned.

"Whatta ya mean, fwoor show?"April asked, reverting back to her original lovely state.

"You know what I mean," Philip grinned. "That great play where the young con man tries to win the heart of the fair girl from Brooklyn." He paused in mock thought, "What was it called again...oh yes, Sleazeo and Bimbet."

"Why does everyone around here think I'm a sleaze?!" Ezra shouted in exasperation. "So I make a few bets on da horses, what's wrong with that?! It's just a little side job to provide me with some extra bread."

"I don't know how you can be so successful at that, when you can't even handle the parlor's books!" April interjected.

"I can too!" Ezra demanded.

Philip took a seat as he watched the proceedings with a grin on his face.

"Then why is this pwace on the verge of bankwuptcy?!" April demanded.

"It's um...because George doesn't put enough advertisement out there."

April let out a chuckle. "Doesn't put out enough advertwisement?! Why Gweorge has television spots playing all over da Ghost Broadcasting Network. Although, I admit those commercials aren't very good. I know we were on a low budget, but he could have least found a better poisen to act in them than youse and Phiwip.

"Hey, I thought we did a pretty good job in those ads!" Philip retorted.

"Oh pwease, it's painfuwy obvious that youse two was weading off cue cards. You kept squinting at da camera, trying to wead dem."

"Oh, like you know a lot about acting," Ezra rolled his eyes.

"I do too! You forget, I was a pwetty big name on da stage back in New York," April continued to argue.

"First off, it wasn't the New York stage, it was in Brooklyn," Ezra began to argue.

"That's still in New York!"

"Yeah, but it ain't necessarily the most glamourous spot in the city for theater," Ezra quipped. "Besides, you were only in one play, and that was because both the star and the understudy got sick and they needed someone else."

"I don't have twime for dis. I have to make a phone call," April replied annoyed.

"Who are you calling now?"

"Mewina." Merina was April's best friend and next door neighbor who had come from Greece. Merina was a strikingly lovely woman; the only thing that was off about her was that her bright red hair had numerous snakes in it. She had been born half-human, half-gorgon back in ancient times.

"You know George doesn't like you using the parlor phone for personal calls," Philip argued.

April just waved her hand at the liveryman and dialed. She spoke up brightly in her thick Brooklyn accent. "Hi, Mewina! What's up, girl?"

"Nothing much," Merina replied over the phone. "Just came back from the hair dresser's a little while ago. My stylist had to wrap her hand in bandages again to keep from getting bitten."

April let out a girlish little giggle. "Women," Ezra remarked as he rolled his eyes, and went back to his desk to work on the books, as Philip headed out back to pull the hearse out of the garage.

"So have you heard about, Bwunhilde?" April continued her conversation.

"Who is she?" Merina asked.

"You know, that fat opera broad that lives across the hall from me."

"Oh, that's right."

"Anyway, I heawd she spent most of her money on some dye for her hair!"

"She dyes her hair?!"

"Of course! You don't think those bwaids are naturallyy bwonde do you? And she spent the rest of her dough on a new dress."

"How does it look?"

"Makes her look fatter than she already is."

Merina gave a laugh over the phone, as April peered out the window and saw Gracey coming down the street. "Oops, I gotta go," April told Merina. "The man is coming into work now." She quickly hung up the phone, and took some papers out of her desk and pretended to be hard at work reviewing them.

George stepped into the parlor with a weary look on his face. "Good morning, everyone."

"Mwoning, Mistah G!" April tried her best to be as chipper as possible. Pulling out a stack of papers from her desk, she handed them toward Gracey. "Here are all of your messages I twook today."

George read the list aloud, as he raised an eyebrow. "Call Merinda later to ask her about setting up that date with her handsome cousin. Tonight, call that number I found in the Lonely Ghoul Hearts column at 215..."

"Oh, those are my personal papers!" April sheepishly blushed, as she quickly grabbed the stack out of Gracey's hand and gave him the correct messages.

At the other desk, Ezra erupted into fits of laughter. "You won't go out with me, yet you're so desperate to look in a Lonely Ghoul Hearts column?! For all you know, you could be set up with some weird pervert or momma's boy."

"I don't know, Ezra. That sounds like some real tough competition for you!" Philip laughed from the garage outside.

The skinny accountant grumbled, as a smirk spread across George's face. No matter how dreary his morning was going, he could always count on the antics of his employees to cheer him up.

Heading into his office, George sat down at his desk as he looked over the calls that he had missed this morning. Laying the papers to the side, the aristocrat reached into a filing cabinet and examined the financial report that was typed earlier this morning. He glanced over the figures carefully with a frown on his face.

"Ezra!" George flung the door open and called to the accountant at his desk. "I want to see you in here for a moment!"

The skinny bookkeeper shifted his eyes nervously and took a long gulp. April grinned as she looked at Ezra and tried to stifle her giggles.

"Wooks wike you're in in twouble wit' da man now," she sniggered.

Ezra shot her a glare before stepping into George's office. The skeletal spook was shaking like a leaf, but the fact that he had his usual fourteen cups of coffee concealed it. He took a seat in the armchair in front of George's desk, causing it jitter along with him.

Gracey looked down at the papers with a disapproving glance, before he looked straight ahead at Ezra. "I was just looking over the books this morning Ezra, and I just realized something..."

The accountant shook heavily in his seat.

"...there's no money at all in our account!" Gracey proclaimed.

"I'm sorry, boss!" Ezra erupted in fear, talking at a lightning fast speed. "I didn't mean to, but you see I needed more money to pay off my losing bets that I booked with everyone else. So I decided it wouldn't hurt to just take a few bucks outta the parlor's finances. And then when I won some money I would put it back into the parlor's account. I kept going on and on, back and forth, and I guess I...um, lost the ball somewhere along the way." Ezra grinned even wider than normal, hoping to try and give an innocent, pitiful smile.

George let out a long sigh, and rubbed his temples. He knew any other employer would have fired someone like Ezra at this point, but Gracey revered him too much as a friend.

"I'm not sure what we're supposed to do now at this point," George sighed. "We have to find some way to bring in extra revenue for the parlor, but how?"

"I can take care of it boss!" Ezra chimed. His face was practically beaming, making him even more scary beyond all reason. "Just leave everything to me."

Gracey's eyes grew wide in fear. "No, no! It's all right! I can handle..."

"Don't worry about a thing boss," the caffeinated spook replied. "I can take care of everything. I know every trick in the book to get this place humming in business again."

Ezra quickly ran out of the room and back to his desk. Philip and April both eyed him suspiciously as he began to dial somebody on his telephone.

"How did it go?" Philip asked.

"Didja get sacked?" April cheerfully inquired. The joy of Ezra possibly getting fired couldn't be contained on her face.

"Nope," Ezra grinned. "In fact the boss left everything for me to fix."

"YOU?!" both Philip and April exclaimed in shock.

"Yep!" Ezra sniffed proudly. He continued to dial some numbers from a black book he kept on his desk. "Now if you two will excuse me, I've got some important calls to make that will put us back in business."

Meanwhile, back in his office, George groaned and continually pounded his head upon the desk. "I'm doomed."


End file.
